


Voyeur...Ducks?

by LadyBrooke



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Humor, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2013-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-13 04:11:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/819818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBrooke/pseuds/LadyBrooke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Fingolfin repeats himself in his rants one too many times, Fingon decides to amuse himself by seeing how many outrageous rumors about his relatives he can bring up before his father pays attention to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Voyeur...Ducks?

“This is intolerable!” Fingolfin was not amused at the vast insubordination that his family was showing him. Unfortunately for Fingon, he was the only one around to hear his father rant. Even more unfortunately, he had been ranting for hours at this point, was repeating the same things over and over again, and was paying no attention what so ever to what Fingon said.

He knew this because he had been testing his father over the past few hours, gradually saying more outrageous things. And each time, his father refused to acknowledge what he said. “I know! It’s a complete mockery of basic civilization that Curufin used all the feathers to make a sword, without regard to the fact that I needed those feathers to make a hat for Maedhros.”

By the time Fingon finished saying this, his father had taken another gulp of his drink, and was ranting again, “Your grandfather never had to put up with anything like this.”

“Do you think grandfather was a masochist? I mean, everyone claims women greatly increase pain and suffering for men, and Grandfather did decide to marry two of them. Maybe Míriel was embroidering things on his body.”

“Damn your Uncle for not stopping with the first two sons he had. If only I had to put up with just Maglor and Maedhros – but no, he wanted more sons. And those damn sons keep questioning my authority.”

Fingon looked up from where he was doodling figures on a piece of paper. “According to Orodreth, the world would be missing a great deal if that happened. Apparently, Caranthir gives really good blow jobs.”

Then he watched as his father threw a vase at the wall, “And speaking of sons, what right did your brother have to take that many of my followers and run off into hiding with them? And taking your sister with him too! He better hope I don’t get my hands on him any time soon."

“Are we sure Aredhel wasn’t the mastermind behind it all? After all, they did take a few more men than women – more for her.” He supposed he should feel bad about spreading rumors about his sister, but considering that his words were getting as much attention as a rock might gather, he didn’t.

“I need some way to distinguish myself from all of them!” Fingolfin glared at the fireplace. Fingon wasn’t quite sure what good this would accomplish, unless his father was so drunk that (once again) he thought the flames in the fire were Fëanor, returned from the Halls to haunt him.

“Maedhros is rather distinguished. In fact, I think I’m going to go have an orgy with him, Finrod, and a few other elves, in that stream with the voyeur ducks. So, if you need me, I’ll be off at the stream having an orgy. If you don’t need me, I’ll still be at the stream, so that the ducks can have a good show today.” Standing up, he grabbed his paper and slammed the door behind him.

Fingolfin jumped at the noise. “I know! I’ll name myself High King, like Ingwe did!” When he didn’t hear a reaction from his son, he looked around the room. “Fingon? Where did you go?”


End file.
